


His L Words

by dreamerxatxheart



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aromantic Otabek, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gratuitous Smut, Multi, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9182500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamerxatxheart/pseuds/dreamerxatxheart
Summary: After turning twenty-one, Yuri begins to think that maybe he underestimated the idea that there was something to be said for life and love. Too bad for him, his love couldn't be reciprocated, but at least he has a life and someone who cares enough to watch out for him, and maybe help him find the things he's missing.





	

It wasn’t ever like that, not for him, not for them. He was the cute, grumpy teenager with a point to prove and a lesson, or two, to learn. Especially that first year when he won gold. He had spent the entirety of his free skate thinking of words whispered desperately into his ear by a man that he had come to admire. Yuri wouldn’t say love, not for a few more years, but his initial feelings for Victor were certainly colored by his admiration for the man’s talent. A talent that had grown with his newfound love of a certain Japanese figure skater who had been Yuri’s only thought during his free skate. _Please for the love of god, don’t let him retire._ Yuri would lie until he was blue in the face that that act hadn’t been motivated by his feelings for the man. He couldn’t help but feel just as heartbroken when Victor grabbed hold of him and whispered softly into his ear, voice aching with pain that made the older man tremble. 

“He’s going to leave me, Yuri.” The words had a profound effect on him, and it caused him to skate his heart out in a desperate plea to bring Yuuri back to the ice, for Victor, and maybe for the tiny part of him that refused to admit that he, too, could understand why Victor would want to give up everything for the soft-spoken and strong-hearted man. He could only look on as Yuuri moved quickly across the ice to Victor after winning his medal, presenting it like an embarrassed trophy. He watched the exchange and felt his heart race when Yuuri conceded to skate another year with Victor who would serve as his coach and competitor.

Later on he would feel a slight pang of guilt that he hadn’t thought of his friend, for the one who had gone out of his way to reach out and befriend him. Otabek came up to him later and congratulated him on his gold medal. He noticed the odd look cross his friend’s face when Yuri couldn’t manage to fake a smile. Somehow, he felt disappointed, as if he had failed himself, but he wasn’t quite sure why. 

Yuri never thought too much about why he felt so angry when Yuuri and Victor announced their engagement, or why he felt sick to his stomach every time the two paused during practice to stare deeply into the other’s eyes before resuming their training regimen after a few harsh claps from Lilia at the side of the rink calling them all back to work and a grumble or two from Yakov. He was fifteen, going on sixteen, and still retained the boyish idea that romantic love was gross, unnecessary, and ultimately a setback for anyone who wanted to truly pursue skating. 

He poured himself into his figure skating, winning medal after medal. Soon enough, his stamina was on par with Yuuri, a fact that went unnoticed by all except Yuuri himself. He gave him a quiet congratulations that made Yuri want to lash out. He hated how much he wanted that man’s attention since he couldn’t quite figure out why he wanted it in the first place. It was more than likely due to the fact that he had underestimated his talent, the talent that made his movements on the ice so much more than a blade scratching the frozen surface. He had never understood why dance was an art until he watched Yuuri and Victor after he returned. The way they moved was more than just motions and attempting to evoke a mood. It was graceful, elegant, brooding, harsh, whatever they needed it to be. It captivated him and made him wish that he could be as persuasive with his programs, so he trained harder.

Otabek was a blessing of fresh air, popping into St. Petersburg when there was an opportunity between competitions, Yuri occasionally visiting Almaty in return. Each successive visit was met with his rink mates’ sharp elbows nudging his side and asking what their _real_ relationship was. Yuri ignored the big brown and blue eyes that watched him fondly when he was with the Kazakh skater, mistaking their intimacy as romantic. He didn’t mind. That’s what he told himself at least to ease the burning in his stomach at the look. Besides, Otabek had been very straightforward about his feelings for Yuri after the Grand Prix Final. 

“I don’t date.” Yuri merely shrugged not understanding why the eighteen year old felt the need to announce it like it was all that odd, but as his friendship with him deepened, he better understood what he meant. Otabek didn’t date. _Period_. It wasn’t until Otabek approached him a year later that he finally learned why. The man was blushing in a way he hadn’t ever seen before which set Yuri on edge, waiting for the confession of romantic feelings that would surely set a course for their relationship that would only end in disaster. However, the words that fell out of Otabek’s mouth were just plain confusing.

“I want a zucchini.” Yuri could only lift an eyebrow as they walked the streets of St. Petersburg.

“I think we passed the market. We could go back?” The blush set deeper into Otabek’s face.

“No, I mean. I want you to be my zucchini, well, I mean – ”

“Dude, I can’t be your zucchini, I’m not a fucking vegetable.” Otabek’s face crumpled in pain before releasing as Yuri finished his sentence. He laughed, and Yuri punched him on the shoulder.

“What the hell, man?” Otabek just smiled.

“No, it’s a term, here.” Otabek pulled out his phone. Yuri felt the inkling of understanding fall over him. 

“So you’re aromatic?” Yuri asked staring down at the phone in his hand. 

“Aromantic,” he corrected. “Yes, so, do you think that maybe you’d want to?” 

“Aren’t we kinda already?” The smile on Otabek’s face was one of the few things that could perk him up from the persistent irritable feeling that plagued him. Nothing much changed between them after that, though they both felt more comfortable sharing affection with each other, mostly in the form of cuddles. Yuri continued to ignore his rink mates badgering him about Otabek. It didn’t help that Georgi and Mila had caught the two hugging outside of Yakov’s apartment. 

The day Victor and Yuuri came to the rink to announce the actual date of their wedding, two years after that fateful Grand Prix Final, Yuri flubbed a quad salchow and injured his foot during practice. He ignored the nervous glances from Yuuri and concerned looks from Victor. He didn’t need their pity, or whatever emotion inspired their half-hearted concern. The first thing he did when he got home to his empty apartment, as he had insisted on moving out of Lilia and Yakov’s after he turned seventeen, was call Otabek. The other listened as Yuri wept at the thought of not being able to compete at Nationals. It was the first time he couldn’t skate in a competition and that month he spent recovering reignited his drive to win as much as possible.

Otabek never commented on how hard Yuri overworked himself, but he was there often enough after competitions and practices that Otabek had become an unofficial rink mate. Yuri worked himself to the bone to do everything he could to make sure he got gold every single competition. It only got worse once Victor announced that he was retiring for good. It wasn’t a complete shock as he was thirty, and he wasn’t in his prime for skating any longer. He served as Yuuri’s coach permanently, occasionally shouting out tips to Yuri much to Yakov and Lilia’s annoyance. No one said anything about the fact that Yuri took the unasked for advice, continuing his unparalleled winning streak. 

When Yuri was nineteen, Yuuri retired from competitive skating. Otabek was there when the announcement was made. Yuri felt his hand reach up for his shoulder, but he knocked it away. Yuuri’s retirement came sooner than Victor’s, but he was twenty-eight and had struggled to produce another gold medal. A fact that made Yuri wonder if he had prolonged his career or contributed to the depression that seemed to loom over him for the last year or so. 

That night when Otabek and Yuri were laying next to each other in Yuri’s bed, Otabek asked him if he loved Yuuri. The thought wasn’t one he had ever thought to think of before. He gently hammered a fist against Otabek’s chest.

“This is all I need,” he murmured. Otabek hummed, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Otabek sensed that Yuri felt like he was lacking. What it was though, he wasn’t sure.

Another year passed, and he wasn’t quite sure how it started. Yuuri would invite him over for dinner from time to time, strained, awkward affairs that were stopped a few months after they started. He knew it was an effort on both of their parts to keep in contact with him after they stopped competing, but he couldn’t stand seeing the two of them so comfortable and loving around each other. It made him burn. 

Otabek asked him if he was jealous of Victor, which he wholeheartedly disagreed with because the feeling wasn’t directed only to Victor, but Yuuri, too. Maybe he was jealous that he didn’t have what they had. That was the conclusion he drew when he thought about it, but it wasn’t often his thoughts drifted to places where he imagined things that were beyond the realm of possibility: a fantasy life that maybe kept him going one more year.

After his fifth Grand Prix Final gold medal, Victor reached out to him again. 

“How does it feel?” 

“Empty.” There was a knowing hum on the line.

“You should come over.”

“Why? So you can say “I told you so?” No, thanks.” 

“Yurochka.” 

“Don’t.” The sweet way Victor said his name cut deeper than anything he had experienced before. At twenty-one, Yuri still had a few good years left to skate, but he knew that there wasn’t much else out there for him in competitions. Very suddenly, he announced his retirement and shut himself up in his apartment to deal with his decision. He didn’t answer the phone, letting it ring dozens of times before turning it off. He wasn’t going to answer the door but couldn’t help it when he heard a familiar tenor calling out to him.

“Yurio, please open up.” He wrenched the door open staring down at the man there. Somewhere after eighteen, he had shot up to six feet, passing his mentor and idol in height. Yuri didn’t know what to do when the small warm arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him into a tight hug. Yuri’s hair spilled over his shoulder, brushing Yuuri’s face. When Yuuri looked up at him, he felt something inside him shatter. Those soft brown eyes stared up at him like Yuuri had been heartbroken by the news, but Yuri couldn’t figure out why that would be. 

He didn’t know what he was doing or why he was doing it, but his hands cupped Yuuri’s cheeks, a thumb wiping a stray tear.

“Yurio?” He couldn’t help but smile at the name that used to anger him so much but now only ever reminded him of two of his favorite skaters, _two of his favorite people_. He tilted his head, ducking down to plant his lips on Yuuri’s, savoring for the briefest moment how incredibly soft his lips were. Yuri tugged on the back of his head, pulling them apart for second before he planned on returning to those sweet lips when the wide-eyed look on Yuuri’s face made him realize the mistake he made. He shoved him back, out of the apartment, as Yuuri’s eyes continued to stare straight into his, and he slammed the door in his face, locking it and the deadbolt with two clicks. 

Yuri waited for Victor to come over, to bang down his door, demanding an explanation for his actions. He didn’t come which scared him more. Yuuri stopped by again the next day, but he didn’t answer the door, too scared to face him, to face his feelings. He laid in bed, trying to figure out where exactly those feelings began, the ones that tied him not only to Yuuri but Victor, too. If he was going to accept the fact he had feelings for one, he had to accept he had feelings for the other. Sob after sob wracked through him as the understanding hit along with the knowledge that these feelings would only end in more heartache. 

Otabek was at his door a few days after that, letting himself in with his spare key after Yuri undid the deadbolt once he was certain Yuuri and Victor wouldn’t be coming back. Otabek said nothing about Yuri’s tear-stained face and trashed apartment but nudged him towards the shower, making sure the water was warm before pushing him under the jets. Otabek cleaned most of the space while Yuri was in there. He wasn’t sure how long he had been given that he only left when the water was ice cold. 

“I got a call from Victor.” Yuri flinched. 

“He said that he’s worried about you, that you’ve made a mistake but won’t talk to anyone. He’s also under the impression that we’re dating. He seemed quite confused when I corrected him.” 

“Did he say anything else?” Yuri rasped, voice cracking with disuse and days of tears. 

“No, but Yuuri had a few things to say.”

“Ah.” Yuri took a swig of the tea Otabek made. He felt his lips pucker at the overly sweet flavor of too much honey. 

“You kissed him.” It wasn’t an accusation, but it felt like one.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. God, it was so stupid.” One hand ran through the long, damp hair, fisting it as all his obsessive thoughts started up again.

“Yuri, I never said that you couldn’t be interested in people. It won’t bother me if you date. You just need to let them know about me and what I am to you.” 

“Well, even so, it isn’t like I could exactly date them, could I?” he snapped. 

“Them? So it’s not just Yuuri, then?” Yuri felt cold. 

“It doesn’t matter, Beka. It’s not going to happen.” Otabek didn’t argue but managed to persuade Yuri to eat some food. As they crawled in his bed, Yuri curled up into Otabek’s chest almost wishing he was as small as he was when he was younger so Otabek could better wrap himself around him. Still, Otabek’s warmth was comforting and familiar and helped to ease his pain.

The next morning, Otabek made him breakfast and said he had to return home but promised he’d be back in a few days. He made Yuri promise that if Victor and Yuuri stopped by, he’d talk to them and also asked him to turn on his phone and go through his messages. Otabek didn’t stress him on returning calls or answering messages, but he wanted him to start dealing with his decision.

Yuri stared at his phone after Otabek left. He couldn’t find it in himself to power on the damn thing. What would he do about the probably hundreds of missed calls, text messages, and emails? About three hours after Otabek left, there was a hesitant rap on the door.

“Yurio?” He was going to lose his breakfast that Otabek worked so hard to make. Somehow, his feet led him to the door, and he opened it to two very worried men. He didn’t know what to say but let them in anyways.

“Yuri, be honest with us, are you seeing Otabek?” Victor’s icy blue eyes bore into him as he squirmed. It wasn’t the question he expected him to ask first. He expected something more along the lines of _why the hell did you think it was okay to kiss my husband?_ or _are you using your brain at all?_.

“No, he doesn’t date.”

“Anything with him at all romantically, Yuri?” There was an edge to his tone that had Yuri sure that this was going to be the come back to his spontaneous kiss. Victor would manage to get to the point eventually, and he would eviscerate him no doubt, leave him bleeding out as two of the most important people walked out of his life because he made a terrible mistake. 

“He’s aromantic, Victor. I’m more than his best friend, but he doesn’t have romantic relationships or feelings for me.” A pause. “He calls me his zucchini.” Yuri wasn’t looking at them but at the ceiling fan in the room in a poor attempt to ignore the blush on his face and keep the tears in his eyes. It would be much nicer of them to tell him the truth and then get out instead of prolonging his suffering. Of course, he didn’t deserve that kindness, so he said nothing.

“So there’s no one?” This time it was Yuuri’s voice, nervous, but almost excited. He didn’t know quite what to make of it.

“No, there’s no one.” He swallowed. Surely now Victor would hold him accountable for his actions. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the punch, but it never came. Unless you count the soft press against his lips as his face was tugged down. He opened his eyes. Victor’s were closed, still waiting for Yuri to respond to the kiss. He gently pulled away. 

“I don’t understand.” There was no way to prevent it now. Yuri’s voice shook with the emotions he couldn’t contain any longer. Somehow, despite all the tears he had shed, more fell down his cheeks. 

“You do love us, right?” Victor asked staring up at Yuri. He seemed scared. Yuri couldn’t ever imagine him scared. His question though certainly scared him. How could he confess to something he had only barely come to understand himself?

“Yurochka?” It was so tender; it made him ache. He wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck, pulling him back in. Maybe this was all a wild dream. If it was, then he would allow himself this one moment of happiness. It wouldn’t happen ever again.

“Yes, Vitya, I love you. I love you both.” 

“Oh thank god,” Yuuri said as he stepped forward and pulled Yuri’s face down to meet his, lips sliding against each other like they had done this a hundred times before. He felt Victor’s kisses on his throat and opened his mouth in surprise which let Yuuri slip his tongue in. Yuuri had taken a hand and wound it into Yuri’s long blond locks, kissing him deeply, tongue exploring his mouth. 

The kisses were warm and slow, but somewhere, one of them decided their pace wasn’t enough, and soon they were a mess of tangled limbs, trying unsuccessfully to shed their clothes as they moved back to Yuri’s room. Yuri couldn’t help the tears that continued to fall and whines pour from his mouth as Yuuri and Victor attacked him with desperate kisses and bites. Each of them demanding attention from the blond as the other would scatter more kisses all over. 

He bucked up into a warm fist when one of them finally wrapped their hand around his length. He pulled Yuuri to him, kissing him on the mouth, sucking on his lower lip, and dragging his teeth across it as he pulled away. Victor continued tugging on his length, setting purple and red marks all over his chest, shoulders, and neck. Soon, Yuuri took over for his husband, sliding down Yuri’s body, biting not too gently into his quivering thighs, easing the sting with slow licks before his warm, wet mouth wrapped around him. Victor refused to kiss him on the mouth, and instead listened to Yuri as moans were ripped from him by his lover’s skilled tongue. Victor didn’t relent from teasing Yuri while Yuuri drove him closer to the edge. His hips lifted from the bed, and he shoved a hand into Yuuri’s messy locks. 

“Oh, Yuuri.” He felt another swallow and was gone, emptying into his mouth. Victor pressed gentle kisses to his jaw as he came down from his euphoric high, still not quite certain that this wasn’t the best dream he had ever had. If it was, he never wanted to wake up. Victor and Yuuri slipped onto either side of him, but he could tell they were feeling the effects of not having the same release he had.

“Vitya, you can, with Yuuri. Please.” They tried to dissuade him, saying it wasn’t important, they could please themselves later, they didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but Yuri assured them it was fine, so they fell into each other. But somehow, they made sure not to forget he was next to them. They called out for him between moans and whimpers. They reached out to him with kisses and touches to make him feel included and when they came, his name was on their lips. 

None of them moved as Victor slid up against him with Yuuri on Victor’s other side. Victor brushed Yuri’s hair out of his face as he smiled at him. He didn’t know what to say. If this was real, then what would happen next? They would clean themselves off and leave? Maybe stop by every now and then for a repeat performance? God, he had been so stupid. 

“Yurochka, precious, my sweet boy,” Victor cooed, trying to calm him down at the reappearance of his tears.

“N-no-not a boy, Victor.” 

“Not Vitya anymore?” Yuri froze. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t pretend this wasn’t horribly one-sided. He pulled away from them, startled by the pained look mirrored on their faces as he hustled to shower off their touches. 

He found them both semi-clothed and whispering in the kitchen when he finished up. 

“We have to say something to him, we can’t let him think it’s just him.”

“Didn’t we just show him that it wasn’t? I mean, do we really need to say what we feel? Wasn’t it obvious?” 

“Not to him, Victor. God, I just hope he doesn’t think we’re creeps.” 

“Why would I think that?” Yuri rounded the corner as Yuuri jumped in surprise to his sudden appearance. Victor was staring at him like he had seen him for the first time. 

“Well, it’s just that,” Yuuri paused as he looked over at his husband trying to not so subtly get him to chime in with a response.

“We love you, too.” Yuri felt ecstatic for a moment but then realized that they might not have meant it in exactly the same way. After all, Otabek loved him, too, just not romantically.

“Right.” Yuuri sighed loudly.

“See? This is why you have to be clear with him, Victor.” Yuuri walked up to him, dragging his husband by the hand until they were all standing in a small circle. 

“Yuri, you’re in love with the both of us, right?” The way he phrased the question, soft and non-confrontational left Yuri preparing himself for the blow. 

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms, feeling himself pull back. Surprisingly, Victor grabbed him elbow, reeling him back in and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re trying to say the feeling is mutual.” Yuri was stunned. It didn’t seem possible.

“But how?! You two have each other, how could you possibly feel that way for me?”

“It’s true that we probably haven’t done much that might suggest that’s how we felt, but we both decided that you seemed fairly happy with Otabek, and we didn’t want to intrude. It’s why we were fairly surprised he stopped by and said we needed to come talk with you.”

“Yuuri!” Victor hissed. Otabek had done that for him? 

“Tell him!” Yuuri shot back. Victor rolled his eyes but gathered himself and looked Yuri in the eye.

“We thought you had been together for years. I – we honestly felt a little upset about it, actually. If we had known, well…” Victor trailed off.

“Everyone assumed. No one bothered to ask,” Yuri huffed. Victor and Yuuri smiled. 

“You’re right. So, let me ask you now, what would you like from us?” Victor asked, wrapping an arm around Yuuri, pulling him into his side. Both of them gazed up at Yuri with hopeful glances. 

“I don’t know,” Yuri mumbled. His heart was pounding in his chest. This was way more than he had ever allowed himself to dream. The few brief moments he had let himself think about these two, it was only ever single instances that ended with a kiss on the cheek and a promise that nothing would change. But the idea that he could have more? He wasn’t sure what to think.

“Is that something you want, Yuri?” Yuuri’s voice was gentle, clearly determined not to seem like he was pushing him. His mouth felt dry. Yes, _of course_ this was what he wanted but just because he wanted it didn’t mean it was right for him to have it. 

“You have to tell us if it’s what you want, that’s how this would work. We can’t just keep assuming things.” Victor’s words had Yuri opening his mouth to respond, but he still couldn’t get the words out. He wrapped his arms around the two of them, pulling them forward into his chest, dropping his head down between the two of theirs. The smell of Victor’s cologne and Yuuri’s shampoo wafted off them giving him a heady feeling. He hadn’t realized he was shaking until both of their arms wrapped around him to keep him calm.

Could he say it? The words seemed half-formed in his mouth already. He felt fifteen all over again, unable to express his feelings, but there was so much more at stake here. What if something happened between them and things didn’t work out? He would lose two of the most important people in his life, and what if it impacted their marriage? He wouldn’t bring himself to come between what they had. It would hurt him so much to know that he would be the reason if things broke down. It was the most selfish thing he could ask for. It was too much. He took a breath and began to take a step back when he felt a hand fist itself tighter into his shirt. Victor was looking up at him with the most vulnerable expression he had seen on his face since that moment when wrapped his arms around him. 

_“He’s going to leave me, Yuri.”_

Yuuri’s brown eyes were watching him carefully, as if preparing himself for what Yuri had been about to do. He could see it. It wasn’t just him; it really did seem that they both wanted him desperately. He took in another measured breath and closed his eyes as if it would protect him from the worst, whatever that might be.

“I – please, would you, errrr –” It wasn’t any use. He couldn’t get the words out. He could feel himself flush in embarrassment. 

“Say you’ll have us.” There was a serious glint in Victor’s eye. He nodded and felt the arms around him tighten and chaste kisses pressed wherever they could reach. Yuri was certainly that was floating off the floor from how happy he felt. 

Four days later, Otabek let himself into Yuri’s apartment to find Yuuri and Victor cuddled up on either side of Yuri as they snoozed. Yuri could feel the blush rise to his cheeks as his friend stood in the doorway with a smile on his face. As carefully as he could without waking the two, he stood up. The two readjusted immediately to curl into each other as Yuri danced across the room on his toes, throwing his arms around his friend’s neck. Otabek returned the embrace and patted his back as Yuri whispered to him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Otabek had truly given him the greatest gift, and Yuri could only ever hope to return it in whatever way he needed it most.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what happened here tbh. I was influenced by this [amazing work of art](http://yukipri.tumblr.com/post/152747320782/agape-eros-so-uh-russian-sandwich-anyone) but somehow this happened? ~~This was supposed to be pwp but the plot ran away from me.~~ Meh. I also decided that I need some aro/arospec rep, and Otabek felt like a perfect choice. So there's that.


End file.
